


Smashing

by Builder



Series: Jonestown [4]
Category: Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/F, Hangover, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Mission Fic, Sickfic, Vomiting, jessica jones/avengers crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 18:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15564084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: Don't go on missions hungover.  It's not good for you.





	Smashing

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @builder051

Jess watches as the bullet flies toward her in slow motion.  She’s fairly sure it’s only her mind that’s moving a half-speed, and not the actual space-time continuum.  The slug seems to stop in midair, daring her to try to move out of the way.

Jess blinks down at it.  In the time it takes for the snapshot to travel through the maze of neurons between her eyes and her brain, the bullet gains another few inches.  It punctures the fabric of her sleeve, and Jess stumbles.  She gets out of the path of a direct hit, but it still breaks skin.

Jess’s head is already fuzzy, but she’s aware that the sensation of cotton balls encroaching on the edges of her vision is neither expected nor good.  Pain lances from her shoulder down her arm and across her collarbones like an electric current.  Jess claps her hand over the wound and sinks to her knees, fighting to keep her breath even.  Not much is clear, but the need to stay conscious sticks in her mind.

Light footsteps bound across the pavement.  A pair of boots and slender legging-swathed ankles stop in front of Jess’s crouched form.  “God, Jess.  What happened?”

Jess opens her mouth, but all that comes out is a sigh.  There’s another crack of gunfire, and Nat drops so quickly Jess barely sees her move. She throws her arm over Jess’s head, forcing her to duck.  Vertigo hits hard, and Jess finds herself swallowing down nausea as her face buries in Nat’s chest.

Once the sound of the bullet echoes into silence, Nat lifts her embrace.  “You got hit, didn’t you?” she asks.  A note of accusation colors her tone, but she sounds concerned all the same.

“I’m fine,” Jess mumbles.  It’s not true any way she twists it, but it seems like the right thing to say.

“Babe, you’re bleeding.”  Nat gingerly touches the back of Jess’s hand.  Jess tips her chin to look, and the sight of redness seeping through her fingers hits her stomach with another uncomfortable swoop.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Jess says stupidly.  As soon as she says it, though, the wound begins to throb.  It’s a bad graze and nothing more, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a problem.  The metallic scent of blood mingles with the singe of burned flesh and the chemical odor of smoking synthetic fabric.  All of it makes Jess want to vomit.

“Let’s get out of here,” Nat says.  She clamps her arms around Jess’s waist and hauls her to her feet.

The movement comes before Jess is ready, and disorientation kicks the sick feeling in her gut into high gear.  Her jaw feels like it’s hanging down to her trembling knees.  She wants to press her hand over her mouth, but she can’t bring herself to let go of the wound on her arm. Jess lurches forward, almost breaking Nat’s grip.  She heaves hard, vomiting onto the sidewalk at her feet.

“God, Jess,” Nat murmurs as a torrent of whiskey and bile hits the ground.  “What happened to mission sobriety?”

Jess sputters and struggles to get in a breath before she retches again.  “I got shot,” she says pitifully.

“Like you weren’t about to puke anyway.”  Nat shakes her head.

Jess tries to roll her eyes, but it only makes her head hurt.  She wipes her mouth on her uninjured shoulder and lets Nat take her weight.  “We were…getting out of here?”

“Yeah.  You need to go to medical,” Nat says, supporting Jess toward the jet.

“Naw, I just need to sleep it off,” Jess slurs.

“You need stitches,” Nat corrects her.  “Then you can take a nap.”

“You wanna come with?”  Jess feels stupid as soon as she says it.  But drunk or not, injured or not, Nat brings out the romance in her.

“What, do you think I’m gonna let you puke and bleed out by yourself?”  Nat laughs.  “I’m not that cruel.”

“Well, lucky me.”  A giggle rises in Jess’s throat, bringing bile with it.  She leans away from Nat and gags.

Nat pats her on the back.  “Would you believe me if I said it’s gonna be ok?”

“…not really…”

“I’ll keep trying, then.”


End file.
